Safe
by SamsLovelySummerGirl
Summary: How Bella comes to terms with the existence of Werewolves after Jacob shows her his secret. AU - Bella and Edward were never a couple, and she was in a long-term relationship with Jake. Also, Charlie's Mom is alive and lives with them.


A **werewolf**, also known as a **lycanthrope** (from the Greek λυκάνθρωπος: λύκος, _lykos_, "wolf", and ἄνθρωπος, _anthr__ō__pos_, "man"), is a mythological or folkloric human with the ability to shapeshift into a wolf or a therianthropic hybrid wolf-like creature, either purposely or after being placed under a curse or affliction, usually via a bite or scratch from another werewolf. Early sources for belief in lycanthropy are Petronius and Gervase of Tilbury.

Often the story-telling has been used to inspire fear and obedience. One such example is stories that have been told by elders to persuade Cajun children to behave. According to another variation, the wolf-like beast will hunt down and kill Catholics who do not follow the rules of Lent. This coincides with the French Catholic loup-garou stories, according to which the method for turning into a werewolf is to break Lent seven years in a row.

A common blood sucking legend says that the rougarou is under the spell for 101 days. After that time, the curse is transferred from person to person when the rougarou draws another human's blood. During that day the creature returns to human form. Although acting sickly, the human refrains from telling others of the situation for fear of being killed.

The _loup-garou_ is, in origin, a loan of Frankish _wariwulf_, recharacterized with the French word for "wolf". Spanish and Portuguese have the modern loan-translations _hombre lobo_ and _lobisomem_, respectively (also Galician _lobishome_). Italian has the Greek _licantropo_ in learned or literary context (as English uses _lycanthrope_ besides the native _werewolf_), while Italian folklore uses the term _lupo mannaro_. This latter Italian term however does not necessarily denote a werewolf, but more often concerns stories of enormous and man-eating, but not supernatural, wolves.

I slammed the laptop shut. I'd seen enough.

Blood-drinking, Catholic-killing, curse-spreading...It was nothing but urban legends, handed down through friends and family in times when werewolves were either feared or worshipped.

It was all just fantasy, harmless story-telling.

But I couldn't get the image out of my head. The image of Jacob – my sweet Jacob – eyes red, jagged teeth dripping with blood, clawed hands tearing into someone's flesh...

My hand flew to my stomach, trying to keep bile from rising to my throat.

I wanted to believe that Jake was not a murderer, that he was not a monster. How could the boy I loved be a killer? His laugh was so carefree, his smile just as genuine and happy. How could someone with so much life be the kind of person to take someone else's?

No, I was sure that Jacob was not a killer. As sure as I was that my name was Bella.

But my mind kept flying back to Jake's soft kisses. The kind he'd press to my neck in between the soft nips that made me shiver. ..._after being placed under a __curse __or affliction, usually via a bite or scratch..._

I swallowed and carefully ran my fingers over my neck, trying hard to believe I wasn't searching for teeth marks. The skin of my throat was suddenly inexplicably itchy...

"Bella?"

"Grandma!"

Her silvery-white hair hung down her back in soft waves, and her nightgown just barely brushed the carpeted floor. The laugh lines around her mouth were taught with worry. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"Of course." I smiled. But it felt tense and I knew she wouldn't believe me.

When she took a seat on the bed next to me, I saw that she had the strangest look in her eye. As if she wanted to desperately tell me something. But as quickly as I had seen it, it had passed.

Her eyebrows pulled together in concern at the sight of me. "Are you sure?"

"Mm-hmm." I nodded, my smile not as bright as before – and hopefully not as blatantly fake.

The straight line of her mouth was disapproving. "Well, alright," she conceded.

She was almost through the doorway when the words slipped out. I needed to talk to someone, and who could I talk to? My non-existent friends? My distant parents? Grandma was all I had. I hoped she'd understand.

"Grandma, wait."

"Yes, sweetheart?" Her deep blue eyes were opaque, guarded. I wondered what she thought I was going to say.

My mouth was suddenly dry, and I had to work to get the right words out. "Have you ever fallen for somebody that…turned out to…not be what you thought they were?"

"Did that boy hurt you?"

The accusation in her tone had my skin prickling. My voice was suddenly more defensive than I wanted it to be. "Jake would never hurt me!"

Somehow, I'd sounded surer of the words when I spoke them out loud than when I'd thought them.

A 'v' formed between her eyebrows. "Well, what do you mean, then?"

How much could I say without causing trouble for Jake? "Well...it turns out that his family has a history that I didn't know about and...it's changed the way I see him, but I still...love him, you know? Is it stupid that I'm letting it come between us?"

It was just enough information that it wasn't a lie, but it hadn't exactly managed to be the truth either.

The slight tilt of her head was thoughtful as she stared through me, "I see...Well, has he been treating you differently since you found out? Has he been more aggressive, temperamental, desperate even?"

Her question was strangely detached – like how a psychiatrist might ask you about how you've been doing lately. I didn't know how to respond. "What?"

"Has he been treating you differently, is what I'm trying to say."

She sounded more like my Grandma that time, equal parts caring and concerned.

"Oh. I –" I thought of Jake's face when he showed me his secret. Scared, vulnerable…. His eyes had been so sad when I'd told him I'd needed space. His fingers had held me tighter to him just at that moment, like he never wanted to let me go. But I'd asked for space and he'd given it to me.

We hadn't spoken since.

I sighed. "No, he's still Jacob." And I still love him.

She took her previous seat across from me. She held my hand in hers like she did when she was trying hard to get a message across to me.

"Bella, I know that there are some men who can seem...frightening at times. The things that we love about them can sometimes be their most terrifying aspects: their strength, their possessiveness, their influence on us. But if we truly love them, there's never a reason to fear them."

I knew she meant well, but I wasn't entirely convinced. Wasn't it possible to love someone who would just as easily kiss you as they would stab you in the back?

Her grip on my hand was suddenly so tight it almost hurt. "You know, when your grandfather came back from the war, he had night terrors. He was erratic and paranoid...and sometimes he scared me. But I loved him, so I stayed."

She didn't _sound_ like she regretted it.

"And, eventually, he got better and life went back to somewhat normal. We were happy, because, for us, love was always enough."

Except Jake's 'condition' was not something that could be fixed, now or ever. But I knew what she was trying to say and I appreciated it.

"Thanks, Grandma." My smile was genuine this time.

So was hers. "Of course, sweetheart." She kissed my cheek before leaving me to my thoughts, shutting the door behind her.

Without thinking, I grabbed my cell phone from the night stand. My own face smiled at me from the phone's wallpaper. The sweet kiss Jacob was pressing to my cheek in the photo resolved my decision.

The phone was pressed to my ear before I'd realized I'd even dialed, and it was the very number I'd so carefully avoided for the past two weeks.

"Hello?"

"Jake?"

There was an intake of breath. It was a shameless, relieved sound.

"Bella. I -" He was silent for a long moment. But it wasn't the kind of silence like he was trying to find something to say, more like he was expecting me to hang up. "I didn't think you'd call."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, did you want me to come over or..."

"No, it's just – I thought we'd broken up is all."

His voice sounded regretful and a bit sad, but the sharp prick in my chest at his words distracted me from his tone.

"Did you – Did you want to break up, then?" I would've been embarrassed at the crack in my voice if I hadn't been listening so carefully for his answer.

"What? No! I – I just –" He sighed. It was a disappointed, self-deprecating sound, like this conversation hadn't gone anything like he'd wanted it to. "Can we meet somewhere?"

"Please?" he tacked on when I was silent.

I could almost hear the silent plea in his voice, _I need to see you_.

"Can you be here in 5?"

He blew out a relieved breath. "Be right there."

I hung up before I could let myself say 'I love you,' like I always did.

He was at my window just then, black hair tousled, brown eyes bright. And I knew that he had been patrolling by my house when I'd called. Somehow, the thought of him so near – after weeks of being so far from him – made me smile. He smiled back at me, and I hated that I'd ever thought I could live without that smile.

"I'm so tired of turning and running away,  
when love just isn't safe.  
You're not safe, and that's okay."

– _Safe_, Britt Nicole


End file.
